


Scenes from An Alternate Reality Military

by canadasuperhero



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Reality, Drabble Sequence, Gen, Supernatural AU: Animal Transformations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadasuperhero/pseuds/canadasuperhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who the fuck trains an elite army of badass, shape-shifting motherfuckers who are capable of reconning the fuck out of any situation and sticks them in a fucking broke-ass hummer leading the may-day parade through Iraq in a god damned adult diaper?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scenes from An Alternate Reality Military

\--

_1- Slotting shape-shifting abilities into the general military doesn't solve anything; Military Command still has their heads up their asses in regards to the problems their ground troops face — now with added fur — and in fact have created many new ones they are not prepared to handle. It is the opinion of this marine that Command would make better use of their military assets by not shoving them into MOPP suits. Or better yet, not forcing said assets into possible toxic environments in the first place._ \- Colonel S. R. Taggert, Military Strategist (2003)

“Are you serious, LT? What am I going to do in this piece of shit when I got four legs and tail to manage? Never mind it's greener then the rot on Chaffin's dick when all I see around me is sand; the minute I shift, I’m going to end up puncturing this shit!”

“It is the opinion of command that if you have made the decision to change shape within a chemical zone, Espera, you are fucked anyway.” The Lieutenant’s face remains impassive despite the cacophony of agitated marines and the rustle of the heavy protective over-uniforms being handled around him.

“How come the reporter gets desert camo?” Trombley’s voice rises, indignant from the throng only to be strangled back down by Person who snorts loudly and flings Trombley’s protective gear at him.

“Because Reporter can’t fucking shift so giving him the correct camo isn’t going to cost them like it will when your whiskey tango ass starts going at it like it’s a scratching post, retard.” Person shakes his head. “Fucking cats.”

 

\--

_2- Shifters are not necessarily stronger then the average man although they do tend towards a higher pain tolerance and better basic senses (hearing, taste, smell, sight) both in and out of form. Despite these obvious differences in tactically viable senses and abilities, the idea of using shifters for military advantage is somehow fairly new — previously in the history of the United States, shifters were seen as an oddity best ignored by polite society and it’s only within the last 100 years that this revelation of usefulness has come about. We'd like to believe that it's general new-ness explains the military Command structure's ass-backwards ideas regarding them._ \- from G. Walken’s Every Brotherhood A Pack

“Who the fuck trains an elite army of badass, shape-shifting motherfuckers who are capable of reconning the fuck out of any situation and sticks them in a fucking broke-ass hummer leading the may-day parade through Iraq in a god damned adult diaper?” Reporter stares, fascinated, as Person turns his head to the side and continues to talk as he spits chew out the side of the vehicle and all down his chin. “I’ll tell you who, man. The fucking Marines. We’re so fucking ass-backwards we’re pretty much driving ourselves onto Haji cock, you know?”

“Shut up, Person.”

“No! No, I will not be silenced. I am standing by my very valid point! You think I made Recon just because I am the best RTO in the whole of the Americas?” Person’s hands slap forcefully against the wheel. “No! Why? Because I am an god-damned shifter! I am the best fucking RTO with fingers or without. You should see my fucking ears! My ears are like radars they’re so fucking awesome.”

“Shut up, Corporal Person.” Colbert repeats, absently. Even the inflection is given without any real irritation behind it as if the sergeant isn’t really listening but feels obligated to voice.

“You’ve got big ears for a cat, it’s true.”

Person turns around, arm pushing against Colbert’s head-rest for leverage so he can glare into the backseat. “What the fuck, Trombley? I’m a fox, you overgrown pussy.”

Trombley stare back with petulant suspicion. “What do you mean, you’re not a cat? You look like a fucking cat. What’s wrong with being a cat?”

“Besides the accuracy of one hundred and fifty percent of all pussy jokes, you mean?”

Colbert snorts without taking his eyes from his zone. “He’s a fennec fox, Trombley.”

The look of betrayal on Trombley’s face is something Reporter wishes he could have a picture of. “Are you a fucking dog, Cpl Person?”

“Jesus fucking christ on a pogo-stick. Of course I’m a canine, you retarded backwoods degenerate.”

 

\--

_3- As of 2000, 92% of Recon marines are shifters, which must say something when compared to the general military average of just 15% overall. We are inclined to believe that what it means is Recon is full of crazy people but our studies regarding that are mostly inconclusive._ \- An excerpt from Sergeant S. Baker’s powerpoint presentation on Shifter/Military Dynamics at the Battle Readiness Conference (2001)

The sun is high overhead when Reyes dumps his clothes to the floor and begins stretching. The first time it happened, Reporter had fallen backwards off his perch with an undignified squawk and had been subsequently dog-piled by bored Marines. By the time he'd unearthed himself (by which I mean, he truthfully notes down, Sergeant Colbert finally got tired of the noise and told them all to stop being 'fucking retarded assholes') Rudy had already cleared out of the tent and taken any chance of catching a glimpse with him.

He missed the second and third times as well, distracted by the others and finally huffed, going to sulk on the hood of Bravo Two-One and let Corporal Person's prattle wash over him while he passed the skinny marine in-take valves and watched as Rudy ran everyone into the dust.

"Jesus, Reporter, what the fuck's the matter with you?" Person threw a hand behind himself to brace as he lifted his upper body back out of the humvee's engine and Reporter hurried to tear his eyes away from Rudy -- too late.

Person squinted into the distance and then barked with laughter. "It's okay, that gas mask doesn't really do it for me personally but Rudy works it. You own those kinks, dude."

"It's not --" Reporter cuts himself off because Sgt Espera had informed him that denying anything will only make Person worse and the pained looks on everyone's faces made Reporter inclined to accept the truth of it. "I just keep missing him shift."

"Wait, man, what?" The skinny marine squints up at him, face scrunched into a comical mask of confusion.

"Not that I'm saying any of you wouldn't be fascinating to watch! It's just, he's the only one who's even shucked it all off and made the shift since I've been here. It's not the same having the notes but not really seeing, you know?" The injector hose Reporter had been about to pass to Person waves in the air as Reporter gestures, frustrated.

"Let me get this straight, homes. You've been watching Fruity Rudy get naked for the past three days -- hey, hey, careful with that you liberal fucknut, I sucked a lot of cock to get that part -- and all you wanted was to watch one of us show you doggie style?"

"Well, uh."

"That's the most hilarious thing I've ever heard!" Person pulls himself upright fully, balancing on the lip of the engine to cup his hands over his mouth and yell. "Rudy! Hey, Sergeant, you big tease! Get over here and tell the Reporter you’re sorry!”

Reporter's face is flaming but he manages a laugh. "You didn't have to do that, Corporal Person."

Person's chortling, using Reporter's head as an arm-rest. "Oh man, I really did. You see, War Scribe, Rudy may be crazy. He may be a prodigious machine of Marine Awesomeness. He may be the best looking piece of ass in this god forsaken desert, even! But Rudy is an eight percenter."

It takes a moment of staring at the man jogging towards them in gas mask and full, rock-filled gear, for it to click; Sergeant Reyes is one of the eight percent of Recon Marines who has no animal form.

"What the fuck is he always taking all his clothes off for then?!" Reporter yelps, red-faced.

Person laughs so hard he falls off the side of the humvee.


End file.
